“Nei, it’s all right,” he said. “I like that story much better than the truth.”
She bit her lip, hating her thoughtlessness. She knew the fanciful Fey tale couldn’t possibly be true. The Mages had severed Sariel’s head and burned her with Fire.
“I killed millions that week,” Rain added. His voice was a low scrape of sound. “Thousands of them here. Eld and their allies mostly, but even Fey and mortals and Elves and Danae who were not quick enough to flee my wrath.”
Ellie knew that too. Celieria had erected smaller memorials at various points around the site in memory of all the allies of Celieria who had perished in a sea of tairen flame. The flame had rained down without cease, turning the very earth into a lake of molten obsidian glass that swallowed every trace of the armies on the battlefield.
Ellysetta left the circle of stones and went to his side. “You must stop blaming yourself, Rain. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I knew,” he corrected her. “I was simply beyond caring.”
The Wilding Rage had taken him: the terrible fury of the Fey, a sweeping, conscienceless wrath that knew no mercy, no remorse, just the pitiless, relentless drive to destroy whichever enemy had spawned it.
From here, Ellie knew, Rain had flown northward, searching out the armies of the Eld and their allies, raining fire and death upon all in his path. He’d blanketed the entire nation of Eld in scorching clouds of tairen fire, leaving naught but smoldering ashlands in his wake. Even then, his Rage still shrieked for more blood, more death. He’d skimmed along Eld’s eastern coast, boiling the seas with tairen flame and sinking fleets of enemy naval vessels. By the time the Fey and the tairen had finally forced him from the sky, half the continent lay in ruin and millions had perished.
“You ended the Wars,” Ellysetta reminded him.
“I almost ended the world.”
“But you did not. Even in your Rage, you focused the bulk of your fury on the Eld.”
He would not let her cling to her illusions. “I was coming south to scorch Celieria off the map when Marissya and the others stopped me.”
“Do you think you would truly have done that?”
“Aiyah. Gods help me, but I would have.”
Ellysetta clasped both of Rain’s hands in hers, feeling his self-loathing for the horrors he had wreaked upon the world. Countless innocents had died here that day, as well as the hated enemy.
“I know their names,” he said. “Each and every one of them slain by my Rage—and there are so many. For centuries, I lived with the sound of them shrieking in my mind. Over time, I learned how to quiet them, but they’re still there, still screaming. Anytime I let my barriers fall, I see their faces and relive their memories of the lives and dreams I shattered.”
“Rain, you spent a thousand years in torment for one terrible act of madness. Haven’t you suffered enough? Let them go.”
He met her gaze, his Fey skin shining with a faint, silver luminescence, his eyes with their slightly elongated pupils glowing. “Ellysetta, I cannot. The torment of their lost lives is mine to bear. Only death or the completion of our bond can release me.”
A misty breeze blew across the lake, cool from the night air sweeping down off the Rhakis mountains and rich with the scent of magic from the Mists. Rain looked up at the bright glow of rainbow lights that danced in undulating flows along the mountaintops. “So many lives lost on my account. Here at Eadmond’s Field and there as well.” He gestured to the Faering Mists. “Twelve thousand of the oldest, strongest Fey and all the tairen prides but one gave their lives to build the Mists.”
“You cannot blame yourself for their deaths too.”
A look came over his face that made her heart ache. “Can I not?” he said softly. “All the Tairen Souls but me were dead. I was the last, and I was wild with madness. But as the last, I was also the Tairen Soul, Defender of the Fey. Had I perceived a threat to the Fey, I would have flown again. So they built the Mists. I’m sure, in part, they meant to save the world from me, but mostly, they died to save me from the world. To give me peace for as long as they could in the hope that I would live and regain my sanity.”
She felt his guilt, his silent horror. “Oh, Rain.”
“How does a Fey repay such sacrifice? How can he ever be worthy? How does he atone for all the lives lost because of him?”
She captured his face between her hands. “By doing exactly what you’re doing now,” she assured him. “By living the best you can. By trying to save the people and the land those Fey loved. By honoring them, as you’ve done every day since I first met you.”
“I think you look upon this Fey more favorably than he deserves,kem’san.”
“Nei, I see him plainly enough.” She laid her palm against his chest. “And I love the Fey I see.”
When she gazed at Rain with such unwavering surety, he always saw a different reflection of himself shining from her eyes. Astronger Rain Tairen Soul, so much better and brighter than he truly was. As if, when she looked at him, she saw only the Rain he might have been if he’d never scorched the world, a good and worthy king. He longed to be that noble Fey, if only because he could not bear to diminish himself in her eyes.
“I cannot restore the lives I took or repair the dreams I shattered, but I can at least ensure that the brave friends and allies who fell here will never be forgotten. Will you walk with me while I do that,shei’tani?”
“Of course I will.”
He led her to the shore of the lake and lit a globe of bright Fire over their heads to light the way, but when he stepped onto the dark glass, she hesitated to follow. In the Fire-light, the glass was smooth and glossy, untouched by dirt, animal tracks, or even a speck of dust. It was as if nothing of the living dared invade this sacred site of the dead.
